“Bite me,” Kimberly said, but she finally stopped and grudgingly dug out her water bottle. The water was tepid and tasted of plastic. It still felt good going down her throat. She was hot. Her chest heaved. Her legs trembled. She’d had easier times on the Marines’ obstacle course.

“At least the heat keeps the ticks down,” Mac said conversationally.

“What?”

“The ticks. They don’t like it when it’s this hot. Now if it were spring or fall…”

Kimberly gazed down frantically at her bare legs. Beneath the red rash, were any of her freckles moving? Blood-sucking parasites, that ought to top off the day… Then she registered the underlying humor in Mac’s voice and looked up suspiciously.

“You’re living dangerously,” she growled.

He merely grinned. “Are you thinking of going for your knife? I’ve been waitin’ all day.”

“Not to put a damper on your male fantasies, but I’m sorry I wore the knife. It’s rubbing off all the skin on my thigh and damn near killing me.”

“Would you like to remove it? I could assist.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

She turned away from him, swiping a hand through her short-cropped hair. Her palm came back wet and salty, disgusting even her. She must look like a wreck. And still he flirted with her. The man was insane.

Her gaze went to the sun. From this vantage point, she could just see it sinking low in the sky. Funny, it was easy to lose track of night around here. The trees already cast so much of the landscape into shadow, and it wasn’t as if the temperature was magically cooling down. But the sun was definitely retreating, the hour growing late.

“Not much time,” she murmured.

“No,” he agreed, his voice now as somber as her own.

“We should get going.” She bent to put her water bottle away. He stepped toward her and halted her hand with his own.

“You need to drink more.”

“I just had water!”

“You’re not drinking enough. You’ve only gone through a quart. You heard Kathy Levine. In these conditions you’re probably sweating through at least that much an hour. Drink, Kimberly. It’s important.”

His fingers were still on her arm. Not gripping, certainly not bruising. She felt his touch anyway, more than she should. His fingertips were callused. His palm was damp, probably as sweaty as the rest of him, as the rest of her. She still didn’t move away.

And for the first time…

She thought about moving closer. She thought about kissing him. He was the kind of man who would be very good at kissing. She imagined he would be slow and thorough. Kissing for him would be like flirting, a fun bit of foreplay he’d been practicing for most of his life.

And for her?

It would be desperate. She knew that without having to think why. It would be need and hope and anger. It would be a vain attempt to leave behind her own body, to break free of the relentless anxiety that shadowed every step she took. To forget for a moment that a young woman was lost out here, and she was trying so hard, but maybe she still wasn’t good enough. She hadn’t saved her sister. She hadn’t saved her mother. Why did she think this time would be different?

She needed too much. She wanted too deeply. This man could laugh his way through life. While Kimberly would one day simply die trying.

Kimberly stepped away. After another moment, she brought her water bottle back up and took a long, deep swallow.

“Times like these,” she said after drinking, “you should be able to push yourself harder.”

Her tone was goading, but Mac merely arched a brow.

“You think I’m soft?”

She shrugged. “I think we’re running out of daylight. I think we should be moving more, and talking less.”

“Kimberly, what time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

“And where are we?”

“Somewhere in our three-mile grid, I guess.”

“Honey, we’ve been hiking down for three hours now. We’re about to go down more, because like you, I also want to see what’s around that next bend. Now, you want to tell me how we’re going to complete our three-hour hike down and magically make it back up to base camp in the one hour of daylight we have left?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“It can’t be done,” he said flatly. “Come dark, we’ll still be in these woods, plain and simple. Good news, according to my map, we’re close to a trail due west. I figure we finish off this section of the stream, leave a marker, then find the trail before dark. Footing there will be better, and we can use my flashlight to pick our way back up. That way, it’ll only be hard and dangerous, versus downright foolhardy. Don’t think I don’t know how to push the envelope, honey. I’ve just had a few more years to perfect the act than you.”

Kimberly studied him. Then, abruptly, she nodded. He was putting their lives at risk and, perversely, she liked him better for it.

“Good,” she said, and hefted her pack. She turned down the streambed, calling out casually over her shoulder, “Old fart.”

That got him crashing down behind her. It also put a smile on her face. It made her feel better all the way around the next bend, where they finally got their first lucky break.

Kimberly saw it first.

“Where are we?” she asked wildly.

“We’re in our section, there shouldn’t be any overlap…”

Kimberly pointed to the tree, with its freshly broken branch. And then she saw the crushed fern, followed by the flattened-down grass. She started walking faster, following the unmistakable signs of human passage as the coarse trail began to zigzag through the woods. It was wide. It was clearly marked. A single person, crashing down nearly out of control. Or perhaps even a man, doubled over from the weight of carrying a heavily drugged body.

“Mac,” she said with barely contained excitement.

He was looking at the sun. “Kimberly,” he said grimly. “Run.”

She went careening down the path with Mac hot on her heels.

Virginia

8:43 P . M .

Temperature: 94 degrees

TINA HATED THE MUD. It oozed and popped and smelled. It rippled and writhed with things she couldn’t see and didn’t want to know. It undulated slowly, like a living beast, just waiting for her to succumb.

She didn’t have a choice. She was dangerously exhausted and dehydrated. Her skin burned from too much sun and too many bug bites. On the one hand, she felt as if her entire body were on fire. On the other hand, she had started shivering, her overheated skin breaking out incongruously with wave after wave of goose bumps.

She was dying; it was that simple. People were comprised of something like 70 percent water. Which made her a pond, now literally drying up from drought.

Curled up against the hot surface of the rock, she thought of her mom. Maybe she should’ve told her about the pregnancy. Sure, her mother would’ve been upset, but only because she personally knew how hard the life of a young, single mother could be. Once the shock wore off, she would’ve helped Tina, offered some support.

And it would’ve been something else, too. Bringing a little life into the world, seeing her baby’s scrunched-up, squalling face. She could picture her and her mom crying together in the delivery room, exhausted and proud. She could see them picking out cute little baby clothes and fussing over midnight feedings. Maybe she’d have a girl, one more tough cookie to continue the family tradition. The three Krahns, ready to take over the world. Oh, the state of Minnesota had better look out.

She would’ve tried so hard to be a good mother. Maybe she wouldn’t have succeeded, but she would’ve tried.

Tina finally turned her head, looking up at the sky. Through the slits of her swollen eyes, she could see the yawning blue canvas of her prison. The horizon seemed to be darkening now, the sun finally sinking from view and leaching away the white-hot glare. Funny, it didn’t feel any cooler. The humidity was still a stifling wet blanket, as oppressive as the cloud of mosquitoes and yellow flies that continued to swarm her face.